


The Fountain

by spanglemaker9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglemaker9/pseuds/spanglemaker9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One secret moment at the Yule Ball changes Hermione Granger forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fountain

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely justaskalice beta'd.

Nervous butterflies.

It was a feeling Hermione was almost complete unfamiliar with. There was no room for such feelings in her ordinary life, and no cause for them. She was a hard-working, highly intelligent student. She prided herself on always being prepared. Nerves were for the unprepared— the weak. There was only room for nerves if you weren’t sure of the outcome, and Hermione, in most areas of her life, _always_ knew the outcome. It was all very straightforward. Study hard, do the work, and do well. Such a simple equation.

Tonight, though…it defied that logic. She had absolutely no idea what would happen next. Hence the butterflies.

Everything started to spin out of her control with the announcement of the Yule Ball. At first it seemed like it hardly had anything to do with her. All the girls in Gryffindor were breathless with excitement about it, but she wasn’t just any girl. All the things they were giddy about— dresses, hairstyles and boys— it all seemed entirely out of the realm of her existence, so she ignored the nightly speculation and chatter in the Common Room.

But then it became clear that attendance was actually _expected_. Even Harry and Ron were talking about going. Then she began to fret. If Harry and Ron were going, she couldn’t exactly skip it. Going, however, would require a date. Another ugly can of worms opened there. Her first thought, as always, was Ron. She still wasn’t sure if she actually  _liked_  Ron. Sometimes she did. Sometimes they’d be joking around and there would be a moment when she thought, “Yes, I like him. I want this to be  _more_.” Then, just as quickly, he’d say something bloody stupid or insensitive and she’d wonder why on earth she even put up with him at all.

Since she’d met them, she’d always thought it would be one or the other. Over the years, Harry had fallen decidedly into the “brother” camp. Just the thought of it…. _no_. And so that left Ron. He still hadn’t fallen into “brother”, but he’d yet to develop into “more”. She and Ron seemed to perpetually exist in this suspended state of _maybe someday_. Still, he’d need a date, too, and so Hermione figured he’d probably ask her rather than take his chances with a stranger. Ron was too chicken to try anything like that.

But as the weeks went on, he didn’t ask her. In fact, he talked openly with Harry right in front of her about how hard it was to find a girl to ask. And that smarted. More than a little.

There she was, left feeling awkward, vulnerable and slighted. Then Viktor Krum, of all people, strode briskly up to her in the library one night while she was studying, gave her a rather formal half-bow and clicked his heels together. Before she could even wonder what he was about, he asked her, in his thick Bulgarian-accented formal speech, if she would do him the honor of accompanying him to the Yule Ball. Hermione could do little but stare at him open-mouthed for a moment. Her first thought was that it was a prank— that Harry and Ron had put him up to it. But they were so intimidated by Viktor that almost immediately, she realized that was highly unlikely. Viktor just stood there, watching her, as she turned the possibilities over in her mind. There was absolutely nothing in his face that hinted that he was joking. If anything, he looked just a little bit uncertain and anxious.

Hermione’s mind spun. Was Viktor Krum  _really_  asking her to the Ball? And  _why_? Now that she thought on it, she had noticed him looking in her direction once or twice, but she’d usually been with Harry, and Harry _did_ garner a fair amount of attention from people who didn’t know him. She’d assumed that Viktor was just trying to get a good look at The Boy Who Lived.

Then again, maybe not. Did Viktor Krum… _fancy_  her? It seemed preposterous, but as Hermione sat there gaping at him, still not answering, the signs seemed to point to yes. Hermione wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Viktor had never held much interest for her. Certainly not like Ron and Harry, who positively worshipped him. But he was good-looking, in a brutish sort of way. Hermione had heard plenty of girls twittering behind their hands as he passed, watching him with admiring eyes. And the idea that someone so good-looking and desired might desire  _her—_ it was just the boost her recently-bruised ego needed.

So Hermione heard herself replying calmly to Viktor, saying yes, she would love to go to the Yule Ball with him. He finally cracked a shy smile and the look of relief that flashed across his face made her feel a little thrill.

Ron had eventually gotten around to asking her. No, he didn't  _ask_. He just assumed she'd go with him or Harry. Either one— it didn’t really matter much to him which. It was so insulting. They'd gotten in a huge row about it and Hermione had taken delight in being able to tell him that she already had a date and therefore didn't need his pity offer. Things had been tense between them ever since.

In the two weeks since then, since she wasn't hanging around Ron as much, she hung around with Viktor instead. They were different years and shared no classes in common, and he was kept busy with his fellow Bulgarians and the business of being a Tri-Wizard Champion. There wasn’t a lot of free time, but he managed to find a few nights to spend keeping her company in the library while she studied.  He wasn't exactly a scintillating companion. He wasn’t particularly bright or witty, but he was nice and courteous, and he seemed genuinely fond of her, which Hermione had to admit was rather flattering. So one night just a few nights before the Yule Ball, when he walked her back to the portrait hole at the end of the evening and looked at her expectantly, leaning forward just a little bit, she made herself hold still so that he could kiss her goodnight. It was…nice. No fireworks or heat or any of the things she’d heard other girls gossiping about. But perhaps one needed to practice more for that. Most things required a bit of work till one was up to speed. It stood to reason that kissing would be the same.

Now here she was, turning this way and that in the mirror to examine her rose-pink dress from all angles, the last step in getting ready for the Ball. The dress really was quite lovely. The Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion that Violet had given her for her hair had done wonders, even if it was a lot of work. All in all, she thought she looked quite pretty, if she did say so herself.

Hermione was not used to feeling pretty. She was not used to fancy dresses and strappy shoes with heels. She wasn’t used to boys that wanted to kiss her and people looking at her in admiration. So then came the butterflies. For the first time in her life, she was entirely out of her depth. Being smart and working hard wouldn’t do a thing for her tonight.

No more time to fret about it, however. It was time to go. Past time, really. But she wanted to avoid hanging around alone in front of the Great Hall, waiting for Viktor, at all costs. So she purposefully waited until she was sure he’d be there already and finished with all the Tri-Wizard business before she arrived. The walk between the Gryffindor Common Room and the Great Hall was quiet. Everyone else was already there. That suited Hermione just fine. The dress might reach to the floor, but she felt so exposed and vulnerable in it, and the last thing she wanted was a lot of curious stares and whispers.

She entered the hall just behind another group of late arrivals and hung back at the top of the stairs for just a moment, trying to screw up her courage to go in.  Then she glanced down and there was Viktor, heading for the stairs, his appreciative gaze fixed on her. She felt herself blush lightly and she smiled, grateful for his presence. He shot up the stairs to her side and offered her his arm.

“Hermione,” he murmured. She always had the urge to giggle at the way he said her name. "Her-mee-own-ee" was how it came out. “You look very beautiful tonight.”

Then she felt badly for wanting to laugh, because he really was so nice and he’d saved her from having to enter the Yule Ball completely alone. She felt grateful to him all over again just for noticing her when no one else had.

Had Hermione been able to hear the thoughts of the students filling the hall below her, she might have been pleasantly surprised to hear just exactly how much she had been noticed at that moment. To be sure, many noticed only because she was the highly unexpected date of Viktor Krum, and perhaps some of the female attention was a bit less than kind.

But the male attention in the room was a good deal more positive. Most of the boys below reacted with a start at seeing Hermione Granger, smiling, in a dress, hair long and curled, and looking decidedly  _pretty_. Some of the cruder ones noticed that she’d been hiding a rather cute little figure under her school robes all these years.  _Ron_  noticed, perhaps for the first time ever, that Hermione was a girl. A pretty one. A pretty girl who was here with  _Viktor Bloody Krum_.

And one other very unexpected person took notice of the pretty girl in the pink dress at the top of the stairs….

 

 

Cho looked lovely. She was always quite pretty, Cedric thought, but the slim satin dress she had on tonight really showcased all her best features. Her black hair was particularly glossy, piled up on her head in some complicated configuration. Her dark eyes were sparkling with excitement as she gripped Cedric’s elbow tightly and looked around the room. He smiled a little at her happiness. She was the sort of girl who lived for things like this.

She was probably the perfect girl to have asked, he thought idly. They were already friendly, part of the same circle of Quiddich acquaintances. She was smart, popular and nice. And she wasn’t pushy. Plenty of girls showed an interest in him. He wasn’t too stupid to notice the sort of female attention he garnered. But other girls always seemed to come on too strong, too eager to pin him down. Cho wasn’t like that. She didn’t flirt wildly and constantly angle for his notice. She was always just herself, and he admired her for that.

So he’d casually suggested to her one afternoon that perhaps she’d like to be his date to the Yule Ball. True to form, she simply smiled and said yes. She didn’t gush and she didn’t hang all over him afterwards. In the two weeks since he’d asked her, he’d started to look at her with new eyes, wondering if maybe she’d like to be more than friends. They’d taken the first tentative steps, studying together, walking to classes together, and spending time chatting in the courtyard one-on-one. Then tonight, when he’d gone to pick her up at the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room, he’d said, “Hi, Cho. You look lovely.”

She’d beamed up at him and murmured “Thank you, Cedric.”

And then, not really thinking much of it, he’d leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t intense or lingering, but just a bit more than friends, which he supposed they were now. He thought maybe they’d talk about their newly-changed status once they were on their own at the dance, but Cho was too wrapped up in looking for their friends as they arrived, exclaiming over other girls’ dresses, and discussing the decorations. Cedric was feeling just the tiniest bit disappointed. He’d been thinking the kiss might have garnered a little more enthusiasm from her. He was irked, but not particularly sad. Dating her would be fun, but he also wouldn’t be heartbroken if it didn’t work out. He was interested, but he wasn’t in love with her.

Not like Potter. Cedric was sharp and observant, and he didn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes followed Cho as they crossed the room when they got here. Oddly, though, Cedric wasn’t jealous or mad. He felt bad for Potter, and wondered if Potter had wanted to ask Cho himself. Ah, well, all’s fair in love and war, and all that. Cedric did get there first. 

Cho was a great girl. So she was a little more interested in the Ball than in him at the moment. He wasn’t ready to write her off just yet. He’d just try to enjoy her company and he'd have to see how the rest of the night unfolded.

There was a bit of commotion at the top of the stairs and he could feel the attention of the room shift all in the same direction.

“Blimey,” Cho murmured at his side.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Viktor Krum’s just arrived,” she said, nudging his side, “and look who he’s  _with!”_

Cedric turned to look at the hulking form of Viktor Krum at the top of the stairs, bent low to whisper in the ear of his date. She cocked her head to the side to listen to him and then laughed softly. He knew that girl…Potter’s friend. That’s who she was. Her surname was Granger. Hermione Granger. He saw it all the time on the listings of top students, along with his own, but since she was two years behind him, he only knew her by sight. She was always going around with Potter and Ron Weasley, and, although he hadn’t ever given it much thought, he’d always half-assumed that she was with one of them. Apparently not, however, as Weasley was a few feet away from him, staring up at her with Krum, his face positively murderous.

Cedric looked back to her. Viktor Krum? He wouldn’t have guessed at that, but the way Viktor was looking at her, there was no doubt he fancied her. And Cedric could see why. How had he never noticed before that she was so pretty? Her hair was usually different, for one. And that dress helped. She was so…he glanced away quickly. It wouldn’t do to start ogling Krum’s date’s figure, no matter how enticing it was.

Professor McGonagall spoke up just then, summoning the four Tri-Wizard Champions and their partners so that they could lead out the first dance. Cho smiled up at him in happy anticipation. Cedric led her to the spot McGonagall indicated and took her waist.

“I’m so glad you asked me, Cedric,” Cho murmured, looking up at him through her lashes. “I have a feeling tonight’s the start of something really wonderful.”

He swallowed hard. “Er… right. I do, too.”

Didn’t he? He’d kissed her, after all. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Absolutely.

The music began and Cedric swung Cho into the steps effortlessly. He’d always been a strong dancer and Cho was a good partner. He saw Harry out of the corner of his eye, desperately trying to keep from stomping on his date’s feet. Parvati—that was her name. She had a forced smile plastered all over her face. Then the couples turned and Viktor moved into his line of sight. On the beat, Viktor swung Hermione high into the air. She let out a little peal of laughter that he could just make out over the music.

“Cedric!” Cho’s voice snapped his attention back.

“Sorry?”

“Be careful! You stepped on my foot!”

“Oh… right. Sorry, Cho.” Cedric sighed and refocused his attention on the dance and his date.

 

 

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and willed back the tears. Bloody stupid Ron Weasley. How dare he say such hateful things and ruin her night? It had been going so well before that, almost like a dream. So maybe the boy at her side was not exactly the one out of her dreams, but she wasn’t sure that boy existed, and Viktor was certainly a passable stand-in.

Viktor had been lovely all night. Perhaps a little  _athletic_  as a dancer, but he paid scrupulous attention to her and hung on her every word. Alright, maybe he didn’t understand half of them, but he  _wanted_  to, and Hermione was willing to give him a lot of credit for effort.

The whole night— her dress, her rather famous, enviable date, the music, the dancing— it was all like a fairy tale. Then they’d taken a break and Viktor had gone for drinks and Ron had been so  _awful_. Accusing Viktor of only asking her so he could get closer to Harry, as if no boy would ever want her for herself. Hermione might have seen Ron’s raging jealousy for just what it was if his words hadn’t hit so very close to her worst insecurities. Her fear of never being quite up to snuff as a girl had been pushed to the back burner for most of this magical night, and in one fell swoop, stupid Ron had brought it all back.

By the time Viktor caught up to her with the drinks, she was pacing back and forth in the empty entry hall, nearly shaking with rage. He held her arms and tried to get her to tell him what had happened. Hermione did, and although compassion seeped from his every pore, Viktor missed the basic gist of everything Hermione said in her wordy, angry rant. He just nodded and hummed and rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

When her anger was finally spent, Hermione forced herself to pay attention to this nice boy holding her. Over half the girls here tonight envied her because of him, she knew that. She wanted to appreciate him like they did. She wanted to want him the way they did. And when Viktor said, in his broken English, that everything would be alright, and he nudged her face up to kiss her, she closed her eyes tight and willed herself to want it.

It wasn’t a bad kiss. She didn’t have much experience with kissing, but Viktor seemed quite proficient at it. It certainly wasn’t unpleasant. It just didn’t fix what was wrong. They went back in and Viktor had been quickly drawn into conversation with several of his Durmstrang classmates. Hermione stood politely at his side for several minutes, listening to the meaningless babble of Bulgarian floating over her head. Finally, she excused herself, claiming to need air. Viktor ran his hand down her back, lingering on her bare skin, and kissed her cheek.

Hermione passed straight through the entry hall and out the front door. A rose garden had been conjured for the night just outside the castle. It was alight with the glow of thousands of fairies that flitted in the hedges. If she weren’t so distressed, she would have noticed that it was lovely. Instead, she stomped past them, unseeing, down one of the winding paths, deeper into the garden. She stopped at the edge of a splashing fountain, just breathing in the cold night air, trying not to cry.  It took a long time before she felt like she wouldn't.

“Hermione?”

She started in surprise and spun around. Cedric Diggory stood uncertainly at the edge of the clearing. “It’s Hermione, right?” he asked.

“Yes. Right,” she muttered, confused.

“I’m Cedric.”

She cracked a smile in spite of her upset nerves. “Yes, I know who you are.”

He had the good grace to look embarrassed as he smiled crookedly and glanced away at the forest behind her. “Are you…I mean, you seem upset.  Are you okay?”

Cedric shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He wasn’t sure where these nerves were coming from. He’d just been catching a bit of air in a quiet corner of the garden when a flash of pink passed him on the right. He’d barely glimpsed her, but in his gut, he was sure that was Hermione Granger. Before he’d even considered why, his feet were moving and he was following her deeper into the garden. When he’d caught up to her, she was standing at the edge of a fountain, her small shoulders tense, her head down. He noticed all kinds of things in that moment that he probably shouldn’t have— how pale and smooth the skin of her shoulders was, the gentle curve of the small of her back flaring out into her hips, how graceful her bowed neck was. He made himself speak just so he’d stop staring. Then it was awkward and uncomfortable, like he’d been following her here, which he had been.

“Sorry,” Cedric spoke again, “I was just grabbing a bit of air and saw you pass by. Is everything alright?”

Hermione exhaled heavily. “I just had a terrible row with Ron…my friend, Ron Weasley.”

Cedric smiled, “He’s upset that you’re here with Viktor Krum?”

Hermione’s head snapped up and she looked in disbelief at Cedric’s knowing smile. “How did you…”

“I saw his face when you came in with Krum. He was…er, unhappy.”

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. “I understand that he’s loyal to Harry. But so am I! And to accuse Viktor of using me just to get some edge on Harry…”

“ _That’s_  what he said the problem was?” Cedric asked.

Hermione just nodded. Cedric snorted dismissively. 

“What?” she asked.

“He’s jealous,” Cedric shrugged.

“What? No. He…he never wanted to ask me. I was just some sort of pity invite. He doesn’t…”

“He does,” Cedric confirmed quietly.

“No, if he wanted that, he would have asked me…”

Again, Cedric scoffed. “He might not  _know_  he wants you, but he does.”

At hearing Cedric say it so plainly, Hermione blushed and looked at the ground. Cedric moved further into the clearing, coming to stand next to her by the fountain.

“If he wants me, why is he so…I don’t know. Why is he such a prat sometimes?”

Cedric laughed and looked into the splashing water. “Sometimes these things can be confusing,” he said. “For some blokes, anyway. Don’t be too hard on him. He’s probably still not gotten it all straight in his own head just yet. Just give him time. That is...” he paused and glanced at her, at her lovely delicate profile, “That is, if you want him, too.”

Hermione looked at him, eyes wide with anxiety, “Oh, I don’t know…We’ve known each other such a long time, and we’ve always been just friends. And it’s too late now because there’s…” She stopped abruptly and fisted her hands together.

“Ah,” Cedric said in understanding. “Now there’s Viktor.”

“Well, yes. I mean, we’ve just…” she shook her head in embarrassed confusion. “I think we are. But I’m just not sure.”

Cedric sighed and said nearly inaudibly, “I know how you feel.”

Hermione looked back at him. He was staring into the water, his handsome profile troubled. “Do you mean Cho? Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ve done all sorts of prying into your private life tonight.”

She chuckled.

“Cho is lovely,” Cedric said evenly.

“Are you seeing her?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“As of tonight, I think I am.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Cedric broke his intense pose and turned his face to Hermione, smiling. “She’s lovely, really.”

Hermione started chuckling. Cedric just raised a questioning eyebrow at her as her chuckles turned into full-on laughter. “It's just...we’re both trying  _so_   _hard_ at something that's supposed to be easy,” Hermione laughed breathlessly. “Look how _grim_ we both are!”

Cedric’s shoulders relaxed and he laughed with her. At length, he sighed. “You shouldn’t settle, Hermione.”

“What?”

“You’re…look, I don’t really know you. I mean, I knew  _of_ you. You’re the brightest in your year, and I’ve seen how hard-working and loyal you are. And you seem so…you’re a good person. Ron's too bone-headed to see what’s right in front of him and Viktor...well, he’s a good bloke, but I doubt he can hold a candle to your brains, am I right?”

Hermione stood up a little straighter. “Viktor’s very kind—”

Cedric held up his hands in defense. “I know that. I’m just saying, you seem rather remarkable. Make sure you find a bloke who is as well.”

Hermione wanted to say something smart in return. She opened her mouth to do it, but nothing would come out. What Cedric had just said to her unsettled her deeply in ways she didn’t entirely understand. It was quite surreal. This was  _Cedric Diggory_. She hadn’t lied when she told him she knew who he was. Everyone knew who Cedric Diggory was. She’d listened to the girls around her swoon and giggle over him for years. He was shockingly good-looking, and also a top-notch student. Hermione had always noticed his good marks, and admired how hard he worked. She was slightly ashamed that she’d noticed other, less intellectual things about him, too. His tall, lanky build, his beautiful, almost delicate bone structure, his thick auburn hair, his sparkling, light eyes. But noticing those things about him made her feel like a silly, frivolous girl, and she refused to be one of those, so she squashed all that down and didn't think about him at all, if she could help it. He operated in an entirely different social sphere than her anyway. He was popular and athletic. They’d have never really even crossed paths if not for Harry’s competing in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

And now she was standing here in a secluded garden with him and he was saying the most intimate, amazing things to her, like he knew her. Oddly, it felt like he did. She had said as much when she commented about how hard they were both trying with their dates that night. They were two strangers who’d just formed an odd connection over how not-quite-right everything felt tonight. When he told her that she seemed remarkable, she was ashamed to say how much those words, coming from him, affected her.

But this wasn’t right, she reminded herself. Viktor was inside. Viktor, who she’d just kissed. It was wrong to stand here in the dark, letting Cedric Diggory’s lovely words make her heart pound. She was just being a silly girl, anyway, letting his good looks get to her.

And yet, right now he didn’t seem his usual, charming, gregarious self. He seemed sad and tense, and she wondered that someone seemingly as naturally blessed as Cedric Diggory could feel so uncertain of himself.

“You shouldn’t either,” she finally said, surprising herself.

“Pardon?”

“Settle. Not that Cho would ever be settling. She’s beautiful and popular and smart. But you can’t force it, you know.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” he asked her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Hermione could only shrug helplessly, hoping she hadn’t offended him.

“Only you can answer that. All I know is that she’s in there and you’re out here.”

Hermione hadn’t meant to say exactly that… it just came out. But now that it was out there, the truth of it hung in the air between them like a shroud. She’d just inadvertently pointed out that the two of them had been standing together, alone in a garden, talking for over thirty minutes, dates completely forgotten inside. Cedric looked at her in confusion, as if trying to puzzle out just what she was made of. Hermione looked back, wondering what sort of magic Cedric possessed that could make her feel this way and say these things.

Both sensed that something just fundamentally changed, that things were not the same as when they’d each left the castle alone a short time ago. And yet, speaking of it out loud violated the sense of propriety that they shared.

Hermione broke the look first, facing back to the water, breathing deeply in an effort to clear her crazed thoughts. She knew she should say goodnight and go back inside and find Viktor.

Cedric watched her in profile for another moment, watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed deeply. Finally, he tore his gaze away and also faced back to the water.

"Now I feel like a prat for leaving her in there on her own," he said moodily.

"I did it, too," Hermione murmured quickly. 

"I like it better here," he said, barely audible. But Hermione heard him perfectly.

"So do I," she whispered, eyes closed.

The tension had yet to dissipate. It snapped between them like a living thing. Hermione thought she might explode from it. Here were the fireworks she'd been expecting when Viktor kissed her, but she was feeling them for another boy who'd never even touched her and now stood a full foot away from her. Cedric clenched and unclenched his teeth, thinking irritably of obligations and complications, wishing that life were as simple as reaching out to touch the pretty girl standing next to him. 

At length, it was Cedric to break the silence. "Hermione," he murmured. "What if—"

"Stop," she cut him off. "Don't say it. Viktor's a lovely person. So is Cho."

"Yes, she is. But tell me, if there were no Viktor, and no Cho—"

He trailed off and Hermione looked down at her feet for a long moment before she answered, head still lowered. "Yes," she whispered.

Cedric exhaled audibly. 

"So," he said finally, "a case of epic bad timing, then?"

Hermione finally looked back at him. The current sparked when their eyes met and she was breathless for a minute before she could speak again. "Bad timing and bad circumstances."

"Right," Cedric said. "Because you're dating a Tri-Wizard Champion. And I'm one, too. And you're good friends with yet a third. Rather complicated, that."

She chuckled again and rolled her eyes. "Very complicated. I can just imagine what that wretched Rita Skeeter would say."

He laughed and they both relaxed a bit. 

"But—" he began. Hermione looked up at him expectantly. "Maybe one day, if things are different—"

"Maybe one day," she agreed quietly.

Cedric moved then, only his hand. He extended his left hand just until the side of his hand brushed hers. Hermione sucked in her breath sharply as her skin made contact with his. He snagged just the tips of her fingers between his, and she didn't pull away. Slowly, he raised her hand to his face, watching her through his lashes the whole time. He gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand and held it there. Hermione thought her heart might pound clear out of her chest. He never looked away from her eyes, she never looked away from his. At length, he lowered her hand, but hung on to her fingertips. He swallowed hard, still staring at her, and took one small step closer to her.

"Her-mee-own-nee?"

Hermione jumped and scampered back several feet. A blush flooded her face as she turned and called over her shoulder. "I'm here, Viktor."

Cedric ran a hand over his face in frustration and took a deep breath to clear his head. He didn't look back at Hermione. He didn't trust himself to. She didn't look at him, either. So when Viktor rounded the corner into the little clearing, all he saw was Hermione and Cedric separated by several feet and paying almost no attention to each other. It never occurred to him to be suspicious.

"Sorry, Viktor," Hermione said quickly, "I came out for some air and ran into Cedric. We got to talking. About the tournament."

"Right," Cedric said, still looking anywhere but at her. He was sure if he did, his face would give him away. "The tournament. How about those dragons, Krum?"

"They were very difficult," Viktor said, seemingly at a loss as to what to say next.

Hermione stepped forward and tucked her hand into his elbow. "You're just in time, Viktor. I'm freezing. I've had quite enough of the garden. Walk me back in?"

He smiled down at her, guileless and infatuated, and Cedric felt like a bastard.

"I'll head inside in a minute," he said, with a forced smile. Hermione didn't meet his eyes. She didn't look back at all.

 

*****

Over the next several weeks, things continued on just as they had. Hermione patched things up with Ron and she regained her familiar equilibrium with him and Harry. There was a new tension that revolved around Viktor, but Hermione by and large chose to ignore Ron on that count. If and when he was ever mature enough to acknowledge his own feelings, she'd deal with him then. In the meantime, Viktor still spent pleasant hours with her, and Hermione took advantage of the opportunity to improve her kissing technique. Viktor told her she'd gotten rather good at it. It never progressed past snogging-- well, not  _much_  past snogging-- but Viktor didn't seem put out by that and didn't press for more.

Cedric spent some equally pleasant hours with Cho, and logged some equally pleasant time snogging. Cho was already quite good at it. Within weeks, though, the relationship had cooled. They both had interests that lay entirely elsewhere and it was driving them increasingly further apart. Cho was finding it more and more difficult to ignore her fascination with Harry Potter. Straining to catch glimpses of him in the Great Hall left her feeling terribly guilty and she'd make a point of paying extra attention to Cedric afterwards— attention that Cedric wasn't particularly eager for. They seemed momentarily stuck in their inertia, each waiting for some catalyst to spur the break-up they both knew was coming.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Cedric and Hermione to never acknowledge what had happened between them by the fountain in the garden, and they continued as they were, barely even acquaintances. They rarely even crossed paths, except for some peculiar shared moments, like the one in the Black Lake, when ironically, she was Viktor's treasure and Cho was Cedric's. Once everyone was back on the dock and wrapped in blankets, they studiously avoided even looking in each other's direction.

Hermione went about her studies and tried to help Harry and Ron with theirs; Cedric likewise studied hard and worried about the trial he still had to face.

On the day of the final task in the maze, Hermione sat in the stands where she always did, between Ron and Ginny, surrounded by the rest of Gryffindor House. Cho sat down near the pitch, so she was on-hand to give Cedric a kiss for luck on his cheek.

Hermione looked away then, but looked back in time to see the four of them, Harry, Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur, head into the maze. Then the branches closed in behind them and they were lost from sight. She allowed her fellow Gryffindors to entertain her and distract her. Fred and George Weasley showed off some new pranks they'd invented, which had everyone laughing. Now and then, they would all glance towards the towering, concealing hedges and wonder what was transpiring inside.

Then a loud bang and a blinding flash of light drew everyone's attention to the pitch below, right in front of the stands. At first, all Hermione could see was Harry. She wondered at his apparating back, rather than walking back out of the maze, but figured that it was part of the trial. There was a flurry of movement from the professors at the unexpected disturbance. 

It happened at the same time. Hermione's eyes locked on Cedric's still form underneath where Harry crouched on the pitch. At the very same moment, Cho noticed, too, and screamed. 

The stands erupted in chaos all around her, but all Hermione could do was sit frozen in her seat, staring at Cedric's body… at Harry, wailing over him and clutching at his uniform. _Cedric_...

She watched in a fog as Professor Moody dragged Harry away to the safety of the castle; watched as Madame Pomfrey arrived and crouched next to Cedric's utterly still body. His beautiful face was turned to the sky, his eyes open and unseeing. Madame Pomfrey looked up at Dumbledore and shook her head sadly. That was when Cedric's father collapsed in screaming grief next to his son. That's when Hermione finally got her legs to move, to carry her out of the stadium and away from Cedric, lying dead on the pitch behind her. She moved in a daze, pressed along with the crush of students streaming out of the stadium. She didn't see anything; she didn't hear anything. 

When the crowd around her thinned, she peeled off, stumbling across the lawns of Hogwart's until she found a secluded corner behind a tree. Only then did she collapse and let her own wrenching sobs come.

 

****

_Twelve years later_

 

"Hermione, I'm just going to take the kids and go see if Harry and Ginny have arrived yet, alright?" Ron said, touching her shoulder lightly. Hermione blinked a bit to pull herself back to the here and now. 

"Sure. Of course. I'm just going to stay here and browse the memorial for a moment," she said, mustering a smile for him. Ron smiled back.

"Come on, then, pixies!" he called, herding the two little flame-haired children ahead of him down the lawn. Hermione watched him go fondly. Ron as a parent was a revelation. He'd changed so much from the bumbling, clueless boy she first knew at Hogwarts. Much of that maturation had happened by the time they finished...or rather, when they would have finished at Hogwarts. That year, and the culminating Battle of Hogwarts proved to Hermione just what Ron was made of in the end. That was what finally allowed her to move on and love him. 

But when their first child had been born, Ron truly came into his own. It was like he'd been born to be a father. He was kind, patient, and playful with them. He cuddled them when they cried, and he spent endless hours playing along in their fantasy worlds. The children brought out a steadiness and maturity in him that nothing else had. Seeing him with their children had cemented Hermione's love and respect for him. He was a better man than even she had ever guessed.

Once Ron was out of sight with the children, Hermione turned her attention back to the memorial. She wanted to take advantage of this moment of privacy to do this, before her family and friends descended on her and reclaimed her attention. This part, she had to do alone. 

The memorial to the victims of Voldemort was a slick black wall, seemingly unblemished and unadorned. But when you ran your fingertips over the surface lightly, names materialized out of the inky darkness of the enchanted stone. Rows and rows of names of the witches and wizards who had fallen victim to Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Hermione reached out and touched at random. Several names materialized beginning with 'C'. She was close. She trailed her fingers down the glassy black surface, watching the names appear and recede. At the bottom of the column, she was still in the 'C's, so she skipped straight across to the bottom of the next column. A name beginning in 'Ea..'. She skimmed back up, watching the alphabet appear in reverse.

Her hand hesitated over 'Albus Dumbeldore'. It would always give her a pang, all tied up with love, respect, fond memories and grief. But his was not the name she was looking for. She went higher still, until her fingers stilled, almost of their own accord. It hovered just under the pads of her fingers; 'Cedric Diggory', along with the date of the third test of the Tri-Wizard Tournament; the day he died.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing herself to remember in a way she rarely did.

After that horrible day on the Quiddich Pitch, she grieved, silently and in secret, for the better part of two years. Part of her hated the pain she felt. It seemed utterly ridiculous to be so heartbroken over a boy she barely knew, a boy she had just one meaningful conversation with. There was no way that his loss should affect her that way, her head told her.

But her heart didn't question it in the least. She knew that night had been different, that  _he_  had been different. There had been something magical between them that night, the hint of some inconceivable potential happiness together. And foolishly, they'd pushed it away, for the sake of not hurting the feelings of two people neither even cared for all that much. Hermione hadn't heard a word from Viktor in ten years and Cho was involved with Harry within months of Cedric's death. Hermione was the one who cherished Cedric's memory, who replayed their one night together in her mind a thousand times, who struggled to keep him with her. 

In the end, though, she knew she couldn't throw her life away on a dead boy; a boy she barely knew; a boy who was only ever a shimmering possibility, not anything real. She wanted to cling to the memory of him forever, but she knew she needed to let him go.

Eventually, she did. Gradually, she put him to rest in her own mind, at least enough to let Ron in. And Ron had helped complete her healing, even if he didn't know that's what he was doing.

Cedric's words to her that night, about not settling, had stayed with her for a long time after he was gone. It was why she held Ron off so long. Looking back, that night at the Yule Ball was a turning point in so many ways. Everything was destined to change, no matter what choices she'd made. If she had merely stayed in the entry hall, and never gone out into the garden, then likely she would have soon realized that Ron was jealous on her own. And once Viktor was out of the picture, things probably would have developed between Ron and her quite naturally.

But because she did go into the garden, because she found Cedric there, and because he told her she was remarkable and should never settle, she didn't. She knew that Ron hadn't been ready for her yet and she held him at arms' length. The search for the Horcruxes and the Battle were what finally made him ready. Those trials turned Ron into the man who could be worthy of Hermione Granger.

She'd let Ron into her heart and he filled in almost all the holes Cedric had left behind. Almost.

She rarely allowed herself to dwell on that night, to remember the cold and the fountain and the fairies in the hedges and Cedric's fingers gripping hers. She kept it locked away in her mind so deeply that sometimes she wondered if it was even real. Maybe she imagined it all; it was just a dream, that beautiful, intelligent boy asking her if there might be a possibility of 'someday' between them— it couldn't have been real.

But then she'd allow herself to remember all the little details and she could still feel the burn of his lips on the back of her hand, still feel him holding her fingers, not letting her go, and she knew every minute of it had been absolutely real.

So now, as she stood at the memorial for all they'd lost as a community, she stole this one private moment to mourn what she'd lost as a girl. What might have been hers as a woman, if only—.

She pressed her forehead against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes and let him live again in her mind for just a minute. 

Hermione heard the loud peals of laughter from her children in the distance. Time to put him away again, tucked back safe in the corner of her heart where he would always stay. She kept The Boy Who Died there, and tried to keep some tiny part of him alive. Alive in her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
